But didn't you ever dream, too? To be a—a popstar. (it doesn't sound so silly in my head, I swear.)
Maybe just once you did, in secret. So secret your pillow suffocated the forbidden thoughts like an unwanted newborn.
(better to be a murderer than an airhead)
My mind runs wild with these blazing fuchsia thoughts, fluttering here and there. I know it's foolish. Chances are twenty years from now I'll be a smarmy housewife teetering on the verge of depression (labeled mid-life crisis, aka, the search for oneself). I can see it all too clearly. Crooked wire-frame glasses, disheveled hair, a lukewarm cup of coffee with the last tendrils of steam trailing off to nowhere.
Huh, even my forecasts are overly dramatic. So sue me.
-(But for now)-
"You're beautiful," he says. Who? Someone a million times more beautiful, certainly. Melodramas can't stand the sight of a plain face like mine. (The audience would be outraged.)
So I'm the hopeful fan(atic) clutching The Beloved's photo to a squeezing, squeezing heart. Big clumsy hands, not fit for a girl. Small eyes, slightly cross-eyed. Not the thick-lashed doe eyes of a thousand sighing girls.
It's an illusion, I tell myself; unsubstantial, fleeting, stupid, I know! You don't need to tell me. You don't need to point out that the road is paved with asphalt and preceded with smog. (How unromantic, Ma.)
(It's reality, sweetie.)
So why do I still fall after these silly dreams? Didn't you teach me better?
These beautiful tricks are so easy to fall in love with.
How can such falsity be painted so prettily? It should be a sin.
This yearning so strong it could be born a screech (but that's too ugly a word; it must be something softer, sweeter…)
Am I sick for falling prey to his narcissistic ploys? Faustian machinations over young girls' swooning hearts. Everyone knows, we wish to be Beautiful. (don't deny it)
Tell me, please, I'm not the only one condemned to these gallows.
"Turn the music down," my father shouts from the down the hall. I scramble for the monitors, sever my popstar dream.
so much for Juliet
Self-explanatory. I blame the Kpop music videos.